smoking revolver trained on the three remaining men. “Get out!”
“You can’t shoot all of us,” one of the brothers croaked, glancing fearfully at his dead compatriot.
“Nope,” Uncle Hewlett added. He cocked Pa’s rifle as he walked in from the back. “But we can take out two of you. The question is, which two?”
The one holding Ma released her. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get outta here.”
The three eased toward the door.
“Wait,” Alice said and gestured to the dead man with her pistol. “Take him with you.”
“We can’t—”
Holding the pistol with both hands, she aimed it at Jake’s leg. “Take him, or I’ll blow your damn kneecap off.”
I stepped back as two of them took the man by the shoulders and dragged him out the front door. Alice followed, never losing her intensity. Uncle Hewlett joined her at the door, and together, they watched as the brigands threw the dead man over his saddle and then rode off.
“If you cowards show your faces around here again, I’ll kill you,” Alice called after them.
My knees shook so badly I held to the table to keep from falling. “Ma, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
“Hurt you? Hurt you?” she mimicked me before she wandered toward the back of the house.
At least they hadn’t injured her. Two hours from now, she would forget it had ever happened.
“We’ll be back!” one threatened. “Mark my words!”
“Give me that rifle,” Alice said, trading with Uncle Hewlett. She aimed it at the backs of the riders, and I watched, not breathing as her finger curled around the trigger.
Her posture straightened. She licked her thumb and wet the sight and then wrapped her finger around the trigger again.
She squeezed, and the blast split the air. The rider who’d threatened us arched and yowled like a kicked dog. At that, the others spurred their horses. Dust kicked up in their wake. The pounding of hooves grew increasingly fainter, and I breathed a sigh.
Once the bushwhackers were out of sight, Alice passed the rifle back to Uncle Hewlett. Then she turned to me. Her gaze scanned my face. Everything that had happened between us gushed forth in my head, and without thinking—without hesitating—I darted into her arms.
“Hush, Belle. Hush,” she whispered as trembling fingers brushed back the loose strands of my hair.
I lifted my head from her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “He hit you.” She grazed my bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.
“And you killed him.” I tried to give her a wry smile, but it hurt too much.
Gratitude for her swept over me. She’d protected me. This woman who at one time had been my enemy had become not only my savior…but my lover as well.
“Alice, I—”
“Are you ladies all right?” Uncle Hewlett asked, interrupting what would have been an impetuous and reckless confession.
I nodded, and Alice’s arms eased slowly away. I studied her as her gaze lingered on the front gates of Rattle and Snap.
She dragged in a deep breath and then blew it out. “They’ll be back.”
Uncle Hewlett nodded. “Yes, they will.”
* * *
After we’d seen to the goats, Alice and I set out to go check on Granny and to warn the neighbors about the bushwhackers. Because Alice still had trouble walking long distances, I hitched Jeff Davis up to the goat cart. At first Alice balked, believing the old billy would nab the chance to do her in.
Jeff pulled the cart with aplomb as if to show Alice the Yankee mules to which she was accustomed had nothing on him.
Granny’s house boasted a long, shaded veranda in back, and I knew that was where she’d be, probably shelling purple-hull peas or drying speckled butter beans for the winter.
I wasn’t surprised to find her setting aside a big bowl of shelled peas as we came around back. She, however, looked very surprised to see Alice sitting atop the goat cart.
Alice tipped her hat. “Ma’am.”
“Land o’ Goshen!” Granny
“You can’t shoot all of us,” one of the brothers croaked, glancing fearfully at his dead compatriot.
“Nope,” Uncle Hewlett added. He cocked Pa’s rifle as he walked in from the back. “But we can take out two of you. The question is, which two?”
The one holding Ma released her. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get outta here.”
The three eased toward the door.
“Wait,” Alice said and gestured to the dead man with her pistol. “Take him with you.”
“We can’t—”
Holding the pistol with both hands, she aimed it at Jake’s leg. “Take him, or I’ll blow your damn kneecap off.”
I stepped back as two of them took the man by the shoulders and dragged him out the front door. Alice followed, never losing her intensity. Uncle Hewlett joined her at the door, and together, they watched as the brigands threw the dead man over his saddle and then rode off.
“If you cowards show your faces around here again, I’ll kill you,” Alice called after them.
My knees shook so badly I held to the table to keep from falling. “Ma, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
“Hurt you? Hurt you?” she mimicked me before she wandered toward the back of the house.
At least they hadn’t injured her. Two hours from now, she would forget it had ever happened.
“We’ll be back!” one threatened. “Mark my words!”
“Give me that rifle,” Alice said, trading with Uncle Hewlett. She aimed it at the backs of the riders, and I watched, not breathing as her finger curled around the trigger.
Her posture straightened. She licked her thumb and wet the sight and then wrapped her finger around the trigger again.
She squeezed, and the blast split the air. The rider who’d threatened us arched and yowled like a kicked dog. At that, the others spurred their horses. Dust kicked up in their wake. The pounding of hooves grew increasingly fainter, and I breathed a sigh.
Once the bushwhackers were out of sight, Alice passed the rifle back to Uncle Hewlett. Then she turned to me. Her gaze scanned my face. Everything that had happened between us gushed forth in my head, and without thinking—without hesitating—I darted into her arms.
“Hush, Belle. Hush,” she whispered as trembling fingers brushed back the loose strands of my hair.
I lifted my head from her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “He hit you.” She grazed my bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.
“And you killed him.” I tried to give her a wry smile, but it hurt too much.
Gratitude for her swept over me. She’d protected me. This woman who at one time had been my enemy had become not only my savior…but my lover as well.
“Alice, I—”
“Are you ladies all right?” Uncle Hewlett asked, interrupting what would have been an impetuous and reckless confession.
I nodded, and Alice’s arms eased slowly away. I studied her as her gaze lingered on the front gates of Rattle and Snap.
She dragged in a deep breath and then blew it out. “They’ll be back.”
Uncle Hewlett nodded. “Yes, they will.”
* * *
After we’d seen to the goats, Alice and I set out to go check on Granny and to warn the neighbors about the bushwhackers. Because Alice still had trouble walking long distances, I hitched Jeff Davis up to the goat cart. At first Alice balked, believing the old billy would nab the chance to do her in.
Jeff pulled the cart with aplomb as if to show Alice the Yankee mules to which she was accustomed had nothing on him.
Granny’s house boasted a long, shaded veranda in back, and I knew that was where she’d be, probably shelling purple-hull peas or drying speckled butter beans for the winter.
I wasn’t surprised to find her setting aside a big bowl of shelled peas as we came around back. She, however, looked very surprised to see Alice sitting atop the goat cart.
Alice tipped her hat. “Ma’am.”
“Land o’ Goshen!” Granny
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